Considerations
by Sierra Janeway
Summary: Horatio Caine hires a new CSI for the Miami Dade Crime Lab’s day shift, an out of place, burned out young woman from the rural north. The rest of the team is surprised and a little uncertain, but this girl may need them even more than they need her…
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: All characters and such belong to CBS. I own the characters that I made up and the new plot._

Author's Note: Ok, before you all freak out on me about posting a new story instead of adding a chapter to some of the others, let me explain! All my other stories at least have chapters-in-progress and I _promise_ they **will** be updated soon!!!! It's been a rough six months or however long it's been. I'm at college now and I don't have chores to worry about, BUT I do have a job and extracurricular activities and homework so don't expect me to devote every spare minute to fanfic stuff. However, I should be able to update more regularly than I have been.

Also, I thought of this story and new characters a while ago, but unfortunately one of the character's names (not mentioned in the story yet but will become central to the story) is the same name as one of the CSI shows' new characters and I want to establish the fact that I did not copy the name. If anything, they stole it from me! :)

That said, carry on!

* * *

**Considerations**

Lieutenant Horatio Caine stood just outside his office door for a moment, surveying his team gathered inside. They were talking amongst themselves, unaware of his presence for the time being. He smiled to himself and glanced once more at the paper in his hand. They had absolutely no idea what was about to transpire, and he couldn't wait to see their reactions.

He entered the room, and all the conversations came to an abrupt halt.

"Hey, H, what's going on?" Eric asked.

"Yeah, your message was kind of cryptic," Calleigh added in her southern accent.

Ryan and Natalia voiced their agreement.

Horatio rolled the chair out from behind his desk and joined the others. He sat down and shuffled through the papers again.

"C'mon, Horatio," Calleigh insisted. "You're smiling. It must be good news."

He laughed a little at that. "That's putting it mildly." He made them wait a few more tense seconds before he refolded the papers and looked up. "I'm sure all of you remember the Cassidy North case."

"How could we forget?" Ryan asked ironically.

The case in question had been wrapped up about two months previously. Cassidy North was an outrageously rich actress, famous for partying, drug use, and constantly being on the front cover of tabloids. Paparazzi followed her every move—except her last. She had been found dead in her top-security luxurious home after a night of club hopping. Horatio and Calleigh had been assigned to the case, and at first everything supported the fact that it appeared to be a suicide. Cassidy had been found facedown in her garage on a pillow near the tailpipe of her silver Mercedes-Benz. However, Cassidy's best friend Kara Winters had insisted vehemently that Cassidy would never have even considered suicide, and a few things had seemed somehow off to the two CSIs.

It had been a busy week for Miami-Dade CSI. A string of robberies, a huge gang shoot-out, two especially grisly murders, and a tense kidnapping had stretched the investigators from all three shifts to their absolute limits. Because of the amount of evidence pointing to suicide, as well as the lack of personnel, Stetler had insisted that they close the case and move on. Horatio and Calleigh, trusting their own instincts and urged on by the tearful pleadings of Kara, had quietly continued the investigation by handing off larger assignments to their colleagues and working off the clock whenever they could. Stetler was just starting to get suspicious when they finally found the tiniest pieces of evidence that conclusively proved Cassidy's death was no suicide. They had arrested her killer, the case had quickly gone to trial due to its high profile, and the murderer had been sentenced to life in prison.

"So what do those papers have to do with the case?" Natalia asked.

Horatio smiled once more and unfolded the papers in his hand. He passed a copy to each of his CSIs. They all began to read over the photocopies of a handwritten letter, composed in the soft, loopy script of a woman. It enthusiastically yet formally expressed deep appreciation to the day shift of Miami-Dade CSI for its thorough investigation of and dedication to the murder case of Cassidy North.

"But you and H were the ones who pulled it off," Ryan said to Calleigh with a slightly confused frown as he glanced up from the letter.

"We told her how we adjusted the caseload," Calleigh explained. "At first she wasn't sure if she wanted us to keep going anymore, since she was afraid we were putting other cases at risk."

"Stetler said the same thing," Eric muttered.

Horatio nodded. "I explained to Ms. Winters that my shift had some of the most dedicated and capable CSIs I had ever worked with, after which she was quite content to let the investigation go forward."

The whole team smiled at that.

"So," Horatio continued, "after the case was satisfactorily ended, she sent us this letter, and something else…" He reached inside his jacket and withdrew a slim white envelope. "Read the last paragraph of the letter."

Calleigh skipped to the end and read it aloud. "Once more, I can hardly express my gratitude to you and your team. I know how much you sacrificed to see that my best friend's killer was brought to justice. Please use the enclosed materials to relieve some of the stress on your department so that you can continue to do your essential work. Sincerely, Kara Winters."

While everyone had been listening intently to Calleigh reading Kara's parting words, Horatio had pulled a slip of green paper from the envelope. When they looked back up at him to ask what exactly those materials were, he was able to show them.

A check.

Calleigh's eyes went wide and Eric's jaw actually dropped as they saw the number printed on it. Ryan kept blinking and trying to count zeros while all Natalia could get out was, "Oh…"

"I remember talking to Yelina when I reopened the Abby Sandoval case and telling her to call city council and have them send me more criminalists," Horatio went on with a smile. "It looks like now they won't have to."

"Did she seriously give us that much money?" Ryan asked incredulously.

Horatio nodded. "Part of it is her own money, but most of it is money from Cassidy. She left everything to Kara." He smiled as he glanced down at the check. "She gave us very specific instructions on how to use this: hire at least one new CSI and buy one or two pieces of new equipment we weren't able to purchase before." He looked around at their still-stunned faces and added, "I wanted to tell you earlier, considering what the last few weeks have been like, but the department asked me to wait until everything was official."

"And this…it doesn't fall under the category of 'thou shalt not accept gifts'?" Natalia wondered aloud.

"Nope. It's for the entire department, it's essentially been willed to us, the matter is public, and I'm told it's excellent PR for the county."

"So the department can't use this for anything else?" Calleigh smiled. "We're definitely adding to the team?"

"Exactly. And I…I have final say. The check is made out to both the department and myself."

Eric, Calleigh, Natalia, and even Horatio laughed out loud as Ryan stood up and declared, "I think someone needs to show me how to do a cartwheel, right now!"

* * *

A few hours later, Horatio sat in his office alone, drafting a want ad for their new criminalist. It was not a task to be taken lightly—he had to find the right person to add to an already incredible team, someone ready to take on Miami's worst, someone highly skilled and creative…

He was so intensely focused on typing out a list of qualifications that when his office phone rang he actually jumped. Slightly upset at the distraction, he looked over at the phone's caller I.D. display and frowned. _Cleveland, OH PD? Who do I know in Ohio?, _he wondered as he picked up the phone.

"Miami-Dade Crime Lab, Lieutenant Caine speaking," he announced.

"Horatio Caine," a middle-aged man's voice happily exclaimed. "It's been a while!"

It took him a few seconds to associate the voice with a name. "Travis Mendel?"

"One and the same," he replied.

"Wow. It's…it's been a while. How're you?"

"Yeah, it sure has. Good old FSU. I'm doing well. And yourself?"

"Pretty good…I'm still having trouble believing it's you." Horatio and Travis had been very close friends during their years at Florida State University where they had both majored in chemistry and expressed interest in joining law enforcement. They had lost touch after Horatio had joined the force in New York and Travis had joined the force in North Carolina and gotten married.

"Well, it's me!"

"What're you doing in Ohio?" Horatio leaned back in his chair a little, want ad all but forgotten.

"Lacey and I thought the kids should be closer to their only grandparents, my parents. The original plan was to move to Akron just a few streets away, but then a position opened up with CSI in Cleveland, so here I am, swing shift supervisor."

"Congratulations on everything, Travis!"

"Thanks Horatio." He laughed. "No need to ask how you're doing!"

Horatio was slightly confused. "Is my career that public?"

"Well, yes and no. I found your stats on the MDPD site along with the other supervisors, but I found the information about your lucky break on the criminalist central site."

"Lucky break…? Do…do you mean the outcome of the North case?"

"And the accompanying reward, yes. Way to go Horatio!"

He laughed at that. "My team members are the ones who deserve congratulations, Travis."

"There's that famous modesty again. Someone had to _lead_ them, you know. You're every bit as deserving as they are."

"I suppose that's true…wait a minute," he frowned. "The results of the North case are online?"

"Yeah, there's a great article on there entitled 'The Smallest Piece of Evidence' or something similar. It's about your team's dedication to the North case."

"Who posted it? When?"

"Umm, looks like the public relations guy for MD CSI about…a week ago."

Horatio heaved a sigh of frustration. "He could tell every other CSI in the country, but I couldn't tell my team until today?"

"I know," Travis replied emphatically. Abruptly, he switched tones. "So how's the new CSI search going?"

"I'm just drafting the want ad, actually."

"Perfect."

The lieutenant frowned. "Why is that?"

"Because I'm about to save you a lot of time and effort."

"Oh?"

"I have the CSI you're looking for."

* * *

Author's Note: I may have had to take a little creative license with the way they acquired the funds, but that's why this is fiction. Other than that potential issue, what did you think? Please review if you can!! Thanks you guys—you're all awesome!!


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: All characters and such belong to CBS

_Disclaimer: All characters and such belong to CBS. I own the characters that I made up and the new plot._

Author's Note: AHH! Once again, I most sincerely apologize for taking forever to update!! College has been kinda crazy—four or five extensive projects/papers between my three classes. Yikes. Unfortunately they pushed fanfic updates to the bottom of my to-do list. :( But I have fall break next weekend so I may be able to get something done for once, ha ha. Can't promise, but I will try. :)

Ok, so this chapter introduces the character whose name I most emphatically did NOT take from CSI. Again, I thought up this name long, long ago but never had a chance to type the story. Just wanted to let ya'll know. :)

Hope you enjoy this chapter. Leave reviews if you can. :) Thanks everybody!!

* * *

**Considerations**

Horatio paused for a moment. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that you don't have to post an ad and go through stacks of resumes. Horatio, I'm telling you—I have the candidate you're looking for right here. Let me fax you their records—what's your fax number?"

Horatio told him. He could hear computerized beeps and mechanical clicking in the background, followed by more beeps and a soft curse. "It might be a while…this machine should have been replaced years ago…" He waited a minute or so before he announced, "Forget it. I'll give you an overview and fax you the papers later from another station."

"Her name's Riley Davison. She graduated summa cum laude from Capital University in Columbus with degrees in criminology and biochemistry. She went back to Pennsylvania to her home county after graduation and put in the six months police duty required to become a crime scene investigator."

"Six months?" Horatio asked, a little incredulous.

"The specific town she worked in was very small. After that she worked four months as a criminalist there. No one really knows why, but she resigned after those four months and spent two months as a cadaver-dog handler before she applied to Cleveland's crime lab. The night shift supervisor here found her resume online shortly after we lost two criminalists in a big gun battle last year. She made it through the interviews and officially started work about a month after the first time he saw her resume. She stayed with them for about five months, and she's been on swing for about four months now. She's fairly young and probably not quite as experienced as you were hoping for."

Horatio thought of Ryan. "Experience isn't everything."

"Very true. I've met a _lot_ of people in my life but she's definitely in the top five smartest. She's extremely observant and careful, and I've never seen her cut corners with evidence or anything else. She has an amazing memory and she's so incredibly patient, whether it's running test results for the third time or piecing a window back together."

_The perfect CSI…_

"And why would you be willing to let such an amazing criminalist transfer to Miami?" Horatio asked. His unspoken 'what's wrong with her' was heard loud and clear.

Travis sighed. "It's…complicated."

Lieutenant Caine glanced at the clock on the wall of his office. "I have the time." It was more of a request than a statement.

He heard Travis readjust in his chair. "Her record's perfectly clean, if that's what you're wondering. Like I said before, no one knows why she left her first job as a CSI. She's really quiet and incredibly serious."

"You think something happened to her."

"Maybe. Probably. I don't know. She doesn't talk about it. Doesn't talk much at all. She's the textbook definition of an introvert."

"Travis, being a criminalist isn't a solo job."

"I know, I know. I think she'd open up, given the chance, but…I think she's been sort of…stifled…She hasn't really had a chance to be a 'full' criminalist…"

Horatio paused. "Are you saying she's never worked outside of the lab?"

The answer came slowly. "She has…but her former supervisors seemed to think her niche was the lab and tended to keep her there. And it seems to me that no one really trusts her with anything big or extremely important because of her age…"

"How old is she, exactly?"

A long pause. "Twenty two in May."

It was July.

"She skipped two grades in school," Travis was saying. "I think it might affect the way she presents herself…she seems…not timid, but…as if she's holding back, like she doesn't want to show off. I don't know…" His voice became more serious. "She's definitely had it rough in the past. Like I said before, I don't know details, but she's too young to be burnt out."

"Burnt out?"

"She's quitting, Horatio." Travis sighed. "After four years of college and barely two years on the job, she's quitting. It's not the work that bothers her. I've watched her process gore with the rest of them and not flinch. She's usually the one who attends the autopsies and brings back tox reports. It's the people that get to her. That's why I requested her to move from nights to swing. Some of those guys on nights…I hoped my team would be better but that hasn't worked out either. Obviously."

Horatio frowned. "Travis, if she's quitting I don't know what I can do."

"Well, I convinced her to use some of her vacation time before she made a final decision. You know, step back, relax, get things in perspective. I helped her make arrangements." He paused before adding, "She's in Miami right now."

Horatio half-smiled to himself. "That's not a coincidence."

"Horatio, you know as well as I do that we need more criminalists, not less. She's extremely good at what she does…I think what she's really after is somewhere to start over. Why not Miami?"

"You want me to talk to her."

"It's worth a shot."

He sighed.

"Just sound her out. See if she responds to someone different. Horatio, her last day in Miami is tomorrow. What are you doing this afternoon?"

"We just got two more cases."

"Can your team handle them?"

"I suppose they can…"

"I spoke with her on the phone right before I called you. She'll be at her hotel all day, reading, probably. She does that a lot. Let me give you the address."

Horatio scribbled down the hotel and room number.

"At least talk to her, Horatio. I don't want to see her give up her calling because things have gone badly in the past. She _needs _another chance."

"I'll do what I can Travis, but I can't promise anything."

"I understand. Thank you."

They exchanged farewells and Horatio hung up his phone with a soft click. He sat silently staring off into the distance for a minute or two before he picked up the scrap of paper he had hastily marked with the hotel address and scrutinized it. A good CSI bearing the scars of a troubled past…not a new concept for him…

_Why not? _

"Riley Davison…" he mused aloud. "Let's see if this could work…on both sides."

* * *

Author's Note: This was a very difficult chapter to write. It's a fine line to walk between 'too-perfect' and 'really-good-we-should-think-about-hiring-her'. If I made her come across as 'too-perfect' please let me know so I can fix it. I don't want her to become the 'perfect prodigy CSI' because that would be frustrating and probably boring and I doubt anyone would want to read it. Also, I made up the required time as a cop so if you think it's inaccurate, you're probably right. I just took a little liberty for as yet unrevealed plot lines since this is indeed fiction. And yes, her age is definitely pushing it but again, it's fiction. I couldn't tell the story I want to tell if she were older. :) Besides all that, please leave a review if you can and let me know what you thought. Thank you so much everyone!!


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: All characters and such belong to CBS. I own the characters that I made up and the new plot.

Author's Note: Yeah, I might as well just quit apologizing. You know I'm a busy college student, so at this point my lateness in updating is pretty much self-explanatory.

Enjoy the new chapter and please review if you can. Thanks!!

* * *

**Considerations  
**

The fax machine in Travis's office in Cleveland finally decided to cooperate, and the machine in Horatio's office helpfully lit up and quickly spat a stack of papers at him. They flew off the end of the tray and skittered across the floor. He bent to retrieve them, shuffling them together without any particular order. By chance, it was Riley's records from the police academy that wound up on the top of the stack. He frowned at the paper thoughtfully as he stood back up.

Top scores on physical tests, top scores in marksmanship, top scores on written exams…

He shuffled through, impressed, looking for a photo. A good cop on top of everything else. Each sheet of paper covered another part of her short career. Nothing was particularly remarkable, but the entire file had a very professional, structured, polished air to it. Every report from her every one of her former jobs had nothing bad to say, nothing to suggest why she'd left. There wasn't a whisper of complaint from anyone.

As he attempted to put them in some sort of order, he came across a page covered in Travis' tiny, neat, square handwriting.

_I hate to sound like I'm begging, Horatio, it read, but she needs another chance. If you feel that she would be a good addition and there is any conceivable way to get her to join your team, please try it. I feel guilty that I didn't take an interest until there was a glaringly obvious problem. And I'm afraid that I wasn't completely honest with you on the phone. While there isn't anything official, I've heard…not rumors exactly, but hints that she left her first job as a criminalist because she saw something she shouldn't have. I'm guessing internal affairs because although we got a glowing recommendation from her old boss, he refused to elaborate on why she'd left. If it was this type of a situation, I can't blame her for leaving but I worry that it's left her jaded, although I know that it can't be the only event that's adversely affecting her. If there's anything you can possibly do, I'd really appreciate it, not for me but for her. Thanks Horatio. –T_

He reread the note twice, slowly leaning back to sit on the edge of his desk. He shuffled back through her transcripts, slowly nodding to himself. It's definitely worth a shot. Straightening up, he turned to face his desk and quickly located a folder into which he inserted all the faxes, minus Travis' personal note. That he folded in half and pushed far back into his top middle desk drawer before he retrieved his keys from the top right drawer and left his office to track down his team.

Halfway down the stairs, he spotted Calleigh's shiny blonde mane gently swaying in time with her gait as she made her way to the break room. He stepped up his pace and caught up with her just as she reached for the door's handle.

"Hey Horatio," she smiled, holding the door for him. "I was just getting a cup of coffee before I headed out to that double homicide scene. Care to join me, or were you going with Eric to the John Doe at the beach?"

"Actually, neither." He poured himself a small cup of black coffee.

"Oh?" Calleigh looked up from stirring cream into hers.

"Yes…" He sipped cautiously at the almost burning beverage. "I'm uh…I'm actually going to talk to someone."

"Oh? Who?"

He smiled a little. "Well, uh…maybe our next CSI."

"Really? Wow, that was fast. You're seriously already conducting an interview?"

"Of sorts…" He looked at his watch. "Listen, Calleigh. I've gotta head out, so I'd like to have you delegate who goes to what crime scene if need be. I don't think there should be any issues, but if there are I'd appreciate you helping sort them out."

She smiled at him. "Absolutely."

"Thank you ma'am." He abandoned the rest of his coffee to the sink and headed out.

* * *

Downtown traffic was a pain as usual as Horatio drove one of the department Hummers to the address of Ms. Davison's hotel, The Tides. The glimmering silver metal and shiny glass building was one of Miami's more reasonably priced hotels that still maintained an incredible view of the shoreline and easy access to the major attractions of the city.

Parking such a large vehicle wasn't without complications, but somehow the lieutenant managed it and made his way to the airy entryway with its revolving doors that led into yet another high-ceilinged, spacious area where the main desk, a behemoth of glossed mahogany, seemed to stand guard. Elevators with brushed-gold doors were located to the left and right. Horatio stepped into one and pushed the button for the fourth floor.

When it came to a soft, effortless stop, he stepped out and looked around for a few seconds to determine which way the numbers ran. He glanced down at the paper in his hand once more to double check the number, glad he was at a hotel because of a live, uninjured, non-witness, non-suspicious person for once.

A fairly short walk brought him to room 447. He took a minute to straighten his suit jacket and relocate his sunglasses from his face to his pocket before he knocked. He waited a minute or so for a response. Nothing. He knocked again, this time waiting several minutes. Still nothing. A third try yielded the same results. He tilted his head, confused. Maybe she had checked out early.

He returned to the lobby and approached the main desk. A young man in a well-pressed uniform of navy and tan looked up inquisitively. "May I help you sir?" he asked with a slight Australian accent

"Yes…Has number 447 checked out this morning?"

"I'm sorry sir, but I'm really not at liberty to release that—"

Horatio cut him off by pulling his jacket back to reveal his badge and holstered firearm. "Miami Dade PD."

"I-I'm sorry sir…I didn't realize…just one second." Clearly flustered, the man turned to his computer and typed some commands into the system. "According to our records, no. Number 447 is still checked in."

"You're sure?"

"Yes sir."

"Ok…do you happen to have any idea where this particular guest might have gone?"

"I'm sorry sir, but hundreds of people are in and out of here everyday—"

Horatio nodded in understanding but cut him off just the same. "Her name's Riley Davison."

The man stopped and looked at him carefully. "Did you say Riley Davison?"

"You know her?"

Surprised, he responded, "Actually, yes. She came to the desk a few hours ago and introduced herself. She wanted to know if there was any way to access the balcony garden on the fourth floor. I told her that is was mainly for decoration and that we have large public garden on the first floor here, but she said she just wanted to read and that there were too many people in the first floor garden. For somebody so young, she looked absolutely drained, so I talked to my boss and he said it was fine. I let her onto the balcony myself."

"Ok…is it still unlocked?"

"Yeah. If you go back up to the fourth floor, take a left as you come out of the elevator, then a left, and then another right. You can't miss it."

"Thank you…" Horatio slipped his sunglasses back on as he returned to the elevators.

The man's directions were as simple as he'd made them sound and it wasn't long before Horatio stood outside the long glass panel that separated the hallway from the greenery-filled balcony. A simple and well-hidden service door was located to his right. It opened silently without any protest and he stepped out into a miniature jungle. Various flowering plants native to Miami waved in the gentle breeze, but he hardly noticed them as he caught sight of the young woman in the wicker patio chair at the other end of the balcony near the fancy black metal railing.

He had a side view of her, reclined on the long, couch-like chair. Her long ebony-black hair was precisely braided into two very tight, orderly braids, one draped over her shoulder and onto her chest, the other's paintbrush-like tip grazing the bottom of her shoulder blade. Small wisps of hair near her temples had escaped and curled in the Miami humidity. He was surprised to see such dark hair glow with a red tint in the sunlight. She had an olive complexion and a tan, making it hard to believe that she wasn't a Florida native. Her eyes appeared to be green, and there was something very vaguely ethnic about her, a combination of hints of eastern European, Native American, Greek, and maybe even a little Hispanic, yet at the same time very American. Her feet were bare, a pair of white sandals accompanying a water bottle under the lounge chair. She wore a pair of khaki shorts and a pastel blue and green striped spaghetti strap tank top and seemed totally absorbed in her paperback novel.

He came a few steps closer before he softly asked, "Riley Davison?"

She started a little and slid up into a sitting position. "Yes?" She looked at him inquisitively.

He slowly removed his sunglasses and pinched the wire ends between both forefingers and thumbs. "Ms. Davison, my name is Lieutenant Horatio Caine. I'm with Miami Dade PD." He rested his hand on his gun holster, pulling back his suit jacket to show her his badge.

She made a move as though to get up, but he waved her down. He pulled an extra chair away from the wall and sat down a few feet from her.

She slid her legs over the side of the lounge chair so she was facing him, and watched him silently for a moment as he seemed to scan her over, his gaze finally coming to rest on the novel in her lap. _To Kill A Mockingbird_ by Harper Lee.

He nodded at it. "_To Kill A Mockingbird_. Great book." Now that he was closer, he could see that her eyes were indeed green. They stared back at him curiously, but without much emotion.

"Yes, it's a great book. Important, too." Where someone else might throw in an interesting tidbit about how they hadn't read the book since high school or some such thing, she was very clinical and professional and seemed not inclined to share anything personal. She looked a bit confused. "How can I help you, lieutenant?"

He nodded slightly to himself. _She wants to cut right to the chase. Ok._ "Ms. Davison, I'm the head of the day shift at Miami Dade CSI."

He thought he saw a flicker of something like fear flash across her face, but before he could make certain, it was gone. Her composure was excellent.

"As you may know, Miami has one of the highest crime rates in the nation. However, we also have the greatest solve rate of any lab in the nation. We'd like to keep it that way. Our lab has recently acquired the funds to hire another CSI. I've had a look at your records and I'm impressed. You come highly recommended."

Now she appeared startled. "Sir, I'm not exactly looking for another job at this point…"

"I know. But we're looking for another good CSI, and I don't think your skills should be wasted."

"You are aware that I've only been in the field twelve times?"

"Yes. And we've hired individuals without any field experience before."

She studied him. "You've spoken with my boss. I never posted a resume."

"Yes."

"Then you must be aware of my…situation." There was still almost no emotion on her face.

"I am."

She was silent for a minute, her gaze fading into the distance. When she looked back at him, there was a hint of fire in her eyes. "A formal interview would require another trip to Miami. I leave tomorrow."

"I'm sure some financial assistance could be made available." The more she fought him, the more he felt the team needed her. She was making excuses, but not providing any explanations. If she truly wanted to quit, she'd use whatever it was that was bothering her, whatever had happened to her in the past, as an excuse because then no one could argue with her. But she wasn't using that excuse. And her records were excellent. Could the crime investigation world afford to lose an individual such as herself?

"Ma'am," he continued in a calm, even tone. "I wouldn't offer you this opportunity if I wasn't impressed with what you've done. And I'm not impressed easily." A tiny bit of guilt couldn't hurt.

Her expression hadn't changed, but her shoulders seemed infinitesimally less tense. She looked at the ground for a while before she met his gaze again. "How long will you give me to think about it?"

Horatio removed a card from his inside jacket pocket. "Call me before you leave tomorrow." He stood to leave. "Ms. Davison."

She shook his outstretched hand and watched him walk away.

* * *

Author's Note: Once again, sincere apologies for the extreme lateness of this update. I can't promise the next one will be any quicker, but I'll try. Maybe keep the TV off next weekend…

As always, reviews are greatly appreciated.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: All original characters and such belong to CBS. I own the characters I created as well as the new plot.

Author's Note: Ugh. Late, late, late, and there's nothing I can do about it. Summer vacation soon…maybe I can do better then!

Hope you enjoy this chapter. Reviews are appreciated!

**Considerations**

Riley Davison lay on the fully-made hotel bed, still in her day clothes. It wasn't all that late, but she could find nothing more to besides lay there and stare at the ceiling, TV and radio off, window open, curtains billowing. She relished the silence as she thought about the tall red-haired lieutenant who had appeared out of nowhere to offer her a way back into the life she'd vowed to leave behind.

She should have suspected something like this from Detective Mendel. He'd been trying to help her out for months now, failing through no fault of his own. And what sort of supervisor helps one of his employees plan a vacation? She should have seen it, usually would have, but probably hadn't because she was so drained at that point.

Pieces of the last few years stumbled through her head as she tried to force them out.

Faces. Noises. Smells. Emotions.

And a flashback to her freshman year of college, a phone call that ended part of her life. She forcefully suppressed the memory, perhaps more so than any other.

None of the memories were very pleasant, and she was sick of experiencing them over and over again. Just one part of why she'd decided to quit. She had multiple degrees, and she could easily get another job. _Why does this man want me to stay so badly? He doesn't even know me._

No one did, not anymore.

But she couldn't forget the forward, honest way he had spoken to her, or his intense blue eyes looking her at squarely, refusing to break eye contact with her until she'd heard him out. No pleading, just a matter-of-fact request.

She let out a long breath and mentally reviewed her time as a CSI, her heart constricting and her stomach clenching painfully. No, there was no way.

_Another folder thrust into her hands. Hostile glances from corners of eyes. Whispered accusations. Unfriendly incredulity expressed at her age. _

_Someone falling in front of her. _

_And one crime scene in particular._

But the lieutenant's voice wouldn't be dismissed so easily.

_"You must be aware of my…situation."_

_"I am… I wouldn't offer you this opportunity if I wasn't impressed with what you've done. And I'm not impressed easily."_

_Do I really want to give it all up?,_ she asked herself. _It was bad, sometimes very bad, but did I give it enough time? I spent my whole life leading up to this…_

She hadn't even thought of that before. What was it about this man, this cop and CSI, a man she didn't know, that was making her reconsider something she thought she'd settled months ago?

She thought of Miami. The beaches, the sun, the atmosphere, all so different from where she'd come from. Was it possible all she really needed was a change of location, a change of pace, a change of people? Could things really be different here?

Lieutenant Caine somehow seemed to indicate yes.

She closed her eyes for a moment. _Miami's about as far from the northeast as you can get and still be on U.S. soil…_

She reached for her phone.

* * *

Horatio adjusted the pillow behind his head and turned the page in the book he was reading. He was reclined on his bed, the covers still neatly tucked in. His bedroom TV was showing a random generic game show and he had the volume most of the way down. The little bit of background noise it gave off helped fend off the sense of isolation. After years being alone, he thought he'd be used to it.

But he wasn't.

He glanced at his watch. 11:23. Fairly late. He considered just going to bed—he didn't have any plans, hardly ever did. He'd taken off his suit jacket and was sitting there in his socks, but that's as far as he could bring himself to relax.

He hoped she'd call. Not that it seemed very likely she would do so. But he hoped.

Her dark, emotionless eyes haunted him. What could happen to someone so young and intelligent and committed to her work that she was ready to walk away from it all?

He desperately wanted her to have another chance.

_You can't save them all, Horatio._

He sighed and continued to read, the amalgam of sounds and flashing colors from the TV blending into the background, there, but vaguely so. He found himself slipping further and further into the story, drawn out of one world and into another. He was only jolted back to reality when his cell phone rang and danced across the nightstand.

Slipping a piece of paper between the book's pages, he picked up the phone and checked the caller ID. He didn't recognize the number.

He flipped it open and pressed it to his ear. "Lieutenant Horatio Caine."

"Lieutenant," a familiar young voice replied. "This is Riley Davison. I apologize if I'm calling too late."

"Ms. Davison. Not at all." He sat up straighter.

"I thought about what you said." She was silent for a minute.

He waited, patient.

Finally, she spoke, quiet, serious, and calm. "I'm willing to give this a chance, if you still need me."

"Absolutely."

"All right. I can postpone my departure for a few days. Compensation won't be necessary."

"You're certain?"

"Yes sir."

"Ok…" His mind was working overtime. _She was willing to try being a CSI again._ "Would tomorrow evening be too soon for a formal interview?"

"No, that's fine."

"Ok…you…you wouldn't happen to have your side arm with you?"

Another pause. "Actually, I do."

_She brought her gun on vacation… _"Ok…can you bring it with you tomorrow?"

"Yes sir. What time and where?"

Her directness still surprised him. No chit-chat. All business. All of twenty-two years old.

"Miami-Dade Police Department. Do you have something to write with?"

"One second…" He could hear her searching for the requisite notepad and pen emblazoned with the hotel name found in every room. A drawer slid open and then shut again. "All right."

He recited the address to the sound of her penmanship with the cheap ballpoint.

"What time?"

"After my shift…is 6:00 all right?"

More writing noises. "Yes, that's fine."

"I'll see you tomorrow then. Thank you ma'am."

After a slight pause, she replied, "Thank you sir." There was a soft click and no more sound came from her end.

* * *

"Horatio!"

He looked up from his office desk to see Calleigh standing in the doorway with an exasperated smile on her face. "I've called your name about six times, the last three I was practically shouting. What's up?"

He smiled a little. "Just a little distracted."

"I'll say," she laughed. "Hey, it's almost 5:30, what're you still doin' here?"

"I have… a few things to take care of."

"Ok. So how close are we to having a new CSI?" Her eyes sparkled with anticipation.

He hadn't told the team about Riley. He didn't want to get anyone's hopes up…or raise questions about her qualifications.

He raised his eyebrows and shook his head a little. "I honestly don't know right now. Hopefully I'll have more to tell you in the morning."

"All right," she laughed.

"See you tomorrow?"

"You know it." She gave him a parting smile and backed out of the doorframe to head downstairs.

His thoughts raced as he watched the clock creep closer to 6:00. He probably had one and only one chance to bring her back from the brink, to convince her, to incorporate her into his team. And he wasn't exactly sure how to go about it.

At ten to six, he sighed and left his office for the lobby. Riley was already waiting.

She didn't see him at first, so he watched her from a distance. She stood apart from the other people milling about and didn't make eye contact. Her shoulders were tense again and she bit down on her lower lip ever so slightly. Nervous for sure, but he wasn't sure whether it was the group in the lobby or her impending interview that was making her so.

He slowly approached. "Ms. Davison?"

She looked up and nodded.

"If you'll follow me." He gestured up the stairs to his office.

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­

* * *

They sat looking at each other from across Horatio's desk.

"So…" he broke the silence. "Ms. Davison."

She nodded.

"According to your records," he said, shuffling papers. "You graduated with honors from Capital University as a triple major in criminology, biochemistry, and…art?" He tried to keep the surprise out of his voice as read from her college records for the first time.

"That's correct."

"And after graduation you received police training and spent six months with the Westlake, PA police force."

"Yes."

"You spent four months as a criminalist there before resigning and taking a job handling search and rescue and cadaver dogs that lasted two months before you applied to the Cleveland crime lab where you are currently employed."

"Yes sir."

Both of them knew the exchange was merely a formality but it didn't make it any less awkward. He knew not to press for details but those disjointed months of her life, despite her exemplary record, were just begging for explanation.

He bypassed that line of inquiry. "Ok…may I see your firearm please?"

She reached into her shoulder bag and removed it, holster and all, and laid it carefully on his desk. He pulled it out of the holster and began examining it carefully, especially the chamber.

This time it was Riley who was curious but didn't ask.

It had been nearly four years, but Horatio still couldn't get Tim Speedle's dying face out of his mind.

Riley's gun was spotless.

Satisfied, he quietly returned the weapon to its holster and proffered it back to her. "Are you up to a little target practice?"

She looked confused for a moment. "Sir?"

"Your last weapons qualification was months ago."

She nodded. "All right."

"Let me show you to the range."

* * *

In a little room off to the side of the police department, he watched her fire in quick succession at first a ringed paper target and then a paper torso. When she'd finished, they both removed their goggles and ear protection and examined her work.

It was all he could to keep the shock from his face. The only other person he'd seen shoot _that_ accurately consistently was Calleigh. He took a moment to respond to Riley's waiting gaze.

"Where did you learn to shoot like that?"

A story brewed behind her eyes but all she said was "Pennsylvania."

He nodded thoughtfully as they returned their equipment to storage in silence.

After it had been put away, he turned to the young woman, contemplating her skill set and glowing recommendation and unknown past. "I need you to be honest with me Ms. Davison. Do you still want this job?"

Her eyes fixed on his, contemplative. After a minute, she replied with a simple, "Yes."

He started to say more but she quickly added, "Provided, of course, that I can find housing."

"What are your current accommodations?"

"An apartment."

"Ok…when can you get out of your contract?"

"Almost immediately. Good landlord."

"All right. I'm sure human resources can help you find a place to stay." It was stretching the truth, but he wasn't going to lose her now to a technicality. "How soon can you start, housing question aside?"

"As soon as I pack and give notice. Probably a week at the latest."

_So soon…she must really want to get away. _

He nodded as a thought crept slowly into his head. "Would you excuse me for one minute?"

When she nodded her assent, he ducked around the corner and dialed a number on his cell phone.

"Hello?" asked a sleepy male voice.

"Carson, it's Horatio Caine." Carson Mitchell was a property owner in Pinecrest, about twenty-five minutes outside of Miami. He owned a chain of small houses with substantial land for Miami-Dade county. The houses also backed up against a national forest, which was the only thing separating the properties from the beachfront. Prime real estate, until about half of the houses' occupants were brutally slaughtered one night. All the evidence pointed to Carson, who swore vehemently that he was innocent. Horatio was able to prove that Carson was telling the truth, and apprehended the real perpetrator, a violent sociopath who had been evading law enforcement in the Midwest for almost fifteen years. Since then, most of the homes had stood empty.

"Hey, Lieutenant! What's up?" Carson's voice immediately brightened.

"Not much. Yourself?"

"Ah well, you know. Business is slow as usual."

"Mmm…you know that favor you owe me?"

"Hey man, _anything_. You saved my life."

"I have a new employee who needs a place to stay, but on a city paycheck."

"You got it," he answered quickly. He quoted the new rent price. "That ok?"

"Very generous. I think it'll work out fine. I'll have her come around this evening if possible. If not, sometime tomorrow, ok?"

"Sounds great. I'll catcha later man. And thanks again."

"Thank _you_, Carson." He hung up and went back to Riley.

"As it turns out, there's a nice place available now for fairly cheap. How much longer can you stay in Miami?"

Surprise flitted briefly across her face. "A few days."

He scribbled the address on the back of a business card and handed it to her. "Go and have a look when you can, and let me know when you've made your decision."

* * *

It was after his shift ended the next day and he was leaving the building that he saw her again.

"Lieutenant Caine!"

He looked up to Riley Davison hurrying towards him.

"Yes ma'am…"

He watched her take a breath and compose herself before she answered, "I'll start packing and be back in a week."

He hid his relief as best he could as he reached out and shook her hand. "Welcome to Miami."

* * *

Author's Note: Sorry that this is mostly back-story. Some of this does play a major role later on, so I had to put it in here _somewhere_. Also, I took a lot of liberties with the housing situation and gun-on-vacation and whatnot. Please don't hate me—I just need to move the story along so we can get to the really good stuff!! Here's hoping I'll get another chapter up before the month's out!


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer: All original characters and such belong to CBS. I own the characters I created as well as the new plot._

Author's Note: Once again, I am so sorry that it has taken me so long to update. Why does life always have to get in the way?! (And by life I mostly mean homework!) I feel like I need to make a list of everything I need to do, but at the same time I'm afraid to! Ugh. Life is complicated. And hectic.

But enough whining.

You may have noticed that this time when I updated, I updated all my stories at once! Hooray! Progress! Although I must confess I added a new story. -hangs head guiltily- I know, I know! But I figure it evens things because it means that now I have a story in each of the CSI categories: Vegas, Miami, AND New York.

Anyway, I really hope you guys enjoy this new chapter!

* * *

**Considerations**

Riley heaved the last box into the back of her dark purple Jeep Grand Cherokee. There was surprisingly little in the vehicle for someone who was moving their entire life across the country, but she'd never really needed much to get by. She had begun living with even less after her life fell apart.

Her departure was of little consequence to the lab. The only people who had even said goodbye and wished her luck were Detective Mendel and Mary Ellen Sedler from payroll. Not surprising. A few people even looked a little relieved, if not happy, to see her go.

The feeling was mutual.

Her apartment was empty, her locker at the lab was cleaned of the few personal items she'd kept around, and she'd done a quick check on what would be her last connection to Pennsylvania once she crossed into Florida to start over. She knew she should sell it, but she still couldn't quite bring herself to do it. The lousy market gave her an excuse.

With a sigh, she climbed into the driver's seat and pulled out of the apartment complex's parking lot for the last time. While most people would feel a little twinge to be leaving the place, she felt nothing. Just…nothing. And the lack of feeling no longer bothered her.

Just before she hit the highway, she pulled into a Country Fair to gas up her car and grab a bite to eat. The number on the gas pump made her cringe and she made a mental note to look at electric vehicles for her next purchase. She went inside to pay, and found herself at the cash register of a rather friendly freckle-faced high school boy.

"Good morning."

"Morning."

"Long trip?"

She frowned slightly and tilted her head at the boy.

"You filled up." He grinned knowingly. "No one fills up anymore unless it's absolutely necessary."

"True."

"Vacation?"

She hated sharing personal information, but she wanted to be polite. "No. Moving."

"Really?" He was double-checking her change. "How far?"

"Florida."

"Wow. When did you decide that?"

She accepted the change in her open palm and transferred it to her pocket. "Last week." She nodded at his startled face. "Have a nice day."

* * *

There was an almost tangible feeling of anticipation and excitement among the members of the Miami CSI day shift and throughout the lab. Calleigh gave Horatio a huge grin as he joined her in the ballistics lab where she was comparing bullets and fragments from dozens of cases. "So tomorrow's the big day huh?"

He smiled and nodded. After everything, he wished he felt more confident about his choice for a new CSI, and how his team would react to her. "Yep. Tomorrow."

"I can not even begin to describe how nice it'll be to have another person here." Calleigh tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and took another look through the comparison microscope.

* * *

As she cruised down I-77, she shuffled through radio stations until she found one that played decent country. A Rascal Flatts song was playing and it seemed especially appropriate.

_"I've dealt with my ghosts and I've faced all my demons, finally content with a past I regret…"_

The radio continued its shuffle and she had grab the knob and dial it back.

"…_I've been burdened with blame, trapped in the past for too long…I'm movin' on…"_

"I'm moving on..." she repeated quietly to herself.

* * *

It was late when she finally found her way to her new house tucked back from the main road. After making another mental note to get GPS in order to avoid getting utterly lost on her new job, she made her way to the main house where the property owner, a very friendly dark-skinned man named Carson Mitchell, handed her the key to her new place and told her that her first month's rent was taken care of. He merely shrugged when she asked about it, so she thanked him, took her key, and unlocked her new home. It was small, but spacious at the same time, and in good condition. A kitchen, a living room, a bathroom combination laundry room, a small office, and a bedroom were more than enough for just one person who didn't intend on having guests or even being in the house much.

Riley hauled all her boxes into the kitchen and stacked them neatly against one wall. They were all clearly labeled and, despite the late hour, she began unpacking. _Just like college_, she thought.

It didn't take long to make the place livable and functional, but when she next looked at a clock she realized that it was effectively tomorrow and she'd have to start work in several hours. She collapsed on her bed, still in the clothes she'd worn on the trip down, and slept fitfully and didn't dream.

* * *

The sun had just barely begun to puncture the deep blue of a nighttime sky with the orange of its rays when Riley's cell phone buzzed loudly on the pillow next to her ear. She fumbled for it and through sleep-heavy eyes saw it was an unknown number. She frowned and flipped it open and pressed it to her ear.

"Hello?"

"Riley, this is Horatio Caine."

"Lieutenant." She sat up and tried to clear the fatigue from her speech.

"I apologize for the early hour. I know you're not scheduled to work for a few more hours, but day shift's been called for a hit and run downtown and we're going to need the whole team."

She started groping for the clean clothes she'd laid out the night before. "I understand. What's the address?"

"Just come to the lab. We'll get you a kit and take a department vehicle from there."

"Yes sir, I'll be there as soon as I possibly can."

"Good. I'll see you shortly."

* * *

Riley had heard horror stories about traffic in Miami, but at 5:17 in the morning it seemed as though she was the only person on the road. Even the causeway was essentially deserted. Her hastily scrawled directions to the lab kept her from getting lost, although she had to suppress a slight feeling of panic as she tried to navigate in an entirely unfamiliar city. The large white stone and glass structure of the Miami Dade Crime Lab was a very welcome sight when she finally pulled onto the street that ran parallel to the building's entrance.

She followed the signs around back to the employees' parking lot. She coasted slowly, looking for the best place to park, and felt somewhat embarrassed. The dozen or so cars in the parking lot at this hour were clean, shiny, mainly black and white with a few greys and greens, fairly new, and all small city cars. And then there she was in her dark purple 1998 Jeep, hulking in comparison, and covered in a thick layer of Pennsylvania road dirt. A cold fist of fear began lurking somewhere in the region of her stomach. _This was a bad idea…it's Cleveland all over again…_

She tried to shake it off as she parked and slipped from the already humid Miami morning to the cool, quiet interior of the crime lab. Many of the hallway lights were off to save electricity, and it gave the place a little bit of a spooky feeling. She hadn't seen anyone so far, and there was no one at the front desk, so it was all she could do to keep from jumping out of her skin when a voice suddenly spoke her name.

"Ms. Davison?"

She spun around and found Horatio standing behind her.

"I'm sorry," he said as he approached. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"Not a problem lieutenant." She paused for just a moment before she continued, "You said something about getting a kit?"

_Still all business…_ "Yes, this way."

* * *

Before they left the building to get a company vehicle, Riley clipped her gun to her hip for the first time in a while. The familiar weight was comforting and unpleasant at the same time.

Horatio watched her adjust it, still looking vaguely uncertain. He pulled something from his pocket and stepped towards her. "This might be helpful."

She looked up to see a silver badge in his hand. It was a Miami Dade police shield. "I'm cleared?"

He nodded. "Everything's been taken care of."

She took it, somewhat gingerly, and clipped it to the other hip.

He thought that she still looked like she felt out of place, but knew better than to press the issue. "Ready?"

She paused before she nodded, and they set off, kits in hand. She felt a bit overwhelmed as they approached a mammoth silver Hummer, but also felt a bit better about her Jeep. She climbed inside and sat silently as her boss started the vehicle and pulled out on to the road. They drove for a few minutes before he spoke. "The crime scene is at the corner of Northwest First Avenue and West Flagler Street, near the Miami Art Museum. A man appears to have been struck by a vehicle sometime during the night, likely very late since his body was not spotted by a motorist until a couple of hours ago. If this is a hit and run, there's evidence all up and down the street, and we need to get it processed before morning traffic gets heavy. That's why I've called out the entire team."

He glanced at the newest team member who merely faced forward, nodded, and replied, "Yes sir."

"Riley."

She looked over at him.

"I understand that things were undoubtedly…different in Cleveland, but there's no need to address me as 'sir', all right?"

She nodded slowly and returned to facing forward.

Inwardly, Horatio sighed. This was going to take some work.

* * *

Eric Delko removed his kit from the back of the Hummer that he, Calleigh, and Ryan had taken to the scene as Calleigh double-checked that her camera was charged. Ryan was helping run barrier tape, and Natalia was making note of the locations of all the traffic and surveillance cameras in the area. There was an almost tangible feeling of anticipation and excitement hovering over the CSIs.

"Today's the day, huh?" Ryan asked as he tied off his end of the barrier tape around one of the side mirrors of a cop car.

"Yep." Calleigh adjusted the lens of her camera and flashed a huge grin. "Oh my goodness, I cannot wait. Things have been so crazy around here lately. It'll be wonderful to have another set of hands in the lab."

"And the field," Eric added. "You got lucky there, Ryan. No more dumpster diving for a while."

Ryan rolled his eyes but smiled. "Finally, I'm not the new guy anymore."

"Be nice," Calleigh chided gently. "Horatio said so. The new girl's gonna need an adjustment period."

"I was kidding," he assured her with a little smirk. "Ryan'll always be the new guy."

Ryan rolled his eyes again, this time in exasperation. "I cannot catch a break around you…"

"I'm just glad we finally have another girl," Natalia added, capturing the image of another security camera nearby and writing a note on its location.

"Are we finally even in that department?" came another female voice.

"Hey Alexx," Calleigh greeted the ME. "Yeah, I think so. Horatio, Eric, Ryan, and Frank, and then you, me, Natalia, and the new girl makes it even."

"Girl power!" Natalia playfully raised a fist and they all laughed.

"So what's the new girl's name?" Alexx asked as she eyed the location of the body in the street and pulled on latex gloves.

"You know, that's the only funny thing," Calleigh said, lowering her voice a little. "Horatio won't tell us much about her. Not even her name. All I've been able to get out of him is that she's a very talented CSI Level One and that she comes highly recommended from a friend. I'm not really sure why he won't share anything else, but I guess he has his reasons."

Alexx shook her head a little with a smile. "Honey, if there's one thing I've learned working with you guys it's that Horatio does what he does and you just gotta trust him."

Calleigh laughed. "Tell me about it."

At that moment, they heard the approach of another vehicle and looked up to see another silver department Hummer coast to a gentle stop just beyond the perimeter of the crime scene tape. They could make out Horatio in the driver's seat, and the silhouette of a young woman in the passenger's seat.

"Here we go," Eric said quietly.

CSIs notice things. That's what makes them good at their job. The kinds of things they tend to notice first, however, depend on the person.

As the new CSI stepped out of the Hummer, Calleigh noticed that she was very young. Her dark hair was tightly french-braided into two braids on either side of her head. Her eyes were dark, probably green, and she wasn't wearing any makeup. She had on a powder blue sleeveless button-up shirt with no collar, and she was wearing dark khaki walking shorts and dark grey running sneakers with light purple accents. She wore no jewelry, not even a watch. She had a long stride and walked quickly, but Calleigh could see she was visibly holding herself back so that she didn't pass Horatio. From what little she could see of her black gun in its holster, she guessed it was either a Beretta or a Glock. Her eyes kept darting around the scene, and she gave off an aura of uncertainty.

Ryan noticed that her face and her posture were essentially devoid of emotion. There was something about her that seemed unhappy and maybe a little frightened, but it couldn't be pinned down to a facial expression or particular movement. She barely looked old enough to be out of college. Her skin was lightly tanned, and she seemed to have a naturally olive or tan complexion. Even as tightly as she had braided her hair, a few pieces had escaped and were curling along the sides of her face. She looked maybe Greek, and maybe Eastern European.

Eric noticed that her hair was a dark chocolate or black color with an odd but beautiful red metallic sheen to it in the sunlight. Her pale blue shirt clung gently to her subtle curves and small chest. She had wide skinny shoulders, skinny arms, and thin but muscled legs, like a runner or swimmer. Her knees and elbows had the knobby look of a teenager's. Long black lashes framed her dark green eyes. She looked rather plain, maybe leaning towards pretty in a diluted, functional sort of way. He thought part of it was the fact that she did not seem at all happy, odd for someone her age. He took another look, and thought that she had the potential to be quite pretty, but something indefinable was putting a damper on it, or maybe she was downplaying it on purpose. She looked more like a college freshman than a veteran CSI.

Natalia noticed that the young woman had a muted aura about her, from her pastel blue top and grey sneakers to her makeup-less and all but expressionless face. She had the faint dark circles of sleepless nights under her eyes and her free hand was clenched into a nervous fist, the only thing about her that seemed to express any emotion at all. The gleaming silver Miami Dade County police badge clipped to her belt looked more like a Halloween costume accessory than the real deal on someone her age. As she watched her, she noticed that the new CSI limped ever so slightly on her right leg every few steps. Barely discernible, but there, and noticeable to someone who'd spent a lot of time learning how to hide injuries.

Medical examiners notice things too. Like how both of the young girl's knees had small scars, as did one of her ankles. Her eyes were dark, maybe hazel, and unsettled. She held herself somewhat stiffly, almost too professional. She was clutching her kit tightly enough in one hand that her knuckles had gone pale. She had the tiniest bit of limp to her right leg once every few strides. Her shoulders seemed unusually bony and she had very small wrists. It looked like there might be a small, fading bruise on her left leg above the knee, and a larger light-colored bruise on her thigh.

Riley was well aware of the multiple sets of eyes on her as she approached her new coworkers. She refused to show even a trace of anxiety or fear, though she found herself unconsciously standing a little behind and to the right of Lieutenant Caine as the two of them ducked under the crime scene tape and stood before the group. _This is not Cleveland_, she tried to tell her churning stomach and racing heart. _This is __**not**__ Cleveland. Things are going to be different here. It's going to be different…_

"Everyone," Horatio said in his deep, calm tone. "This is our new CSI." He turned and gestured at her, both signifying her to the group and for her to step forward.

She stepped forward, half-reluctantly, and was startled when he lightly placed one hand on her arm.

"Everyone, this is Riley Davison."

There was a series of smiles and a chorus of "Hey", "Hi", and the like. There were only five people standing in front of her, but she still felt overwhelmed and a little flushed. _No one ever said second chances were easy…_

With his free hand, the lieutenant indicated a pretty blonde woman to their left. "Calleigh Dusquesne, ballistics." Then a young man with light brown hair and a mischievous, fun sort of grin. "Ryan Wolfe, trace." Next was a handsome Hispanic man. "Eric Delko, underwater recovery and fingerprints." Then a young woman with shoulder length chestnut hair. "Natalia Boa Vista, DNA analysis." Finally he pointed to a dark-skinned woman with large square sunglasses. "And Alexx Woods, our medical examiner."

"Nice to meet you Riley!" Calleigh had stepped forward to shake her hand. "I think I speak for everyone when I say it's a real pleasure to finally meet you."

Riley managed a nod. "Thank you. It's…good to be here." _I think…_

She was caught utterly off guard by her next question. "So now you know what we do. What's your specialty?"

She couldn't think. How can you have a 'specialty' when you've barely been in the field and spent all your time doing anything and everything asked by the senior CSIs?

Luckily, Horatio answered for her. "Reconstruction," he said, so naturally she felt it had to be true. _Let's go with that…_

"We can certainly use your skills here," she replied enthusiastically. This woman, Calleigh, had an infectious smile and an earnest way about her that was sort of unsettling at the same time it was sort of reassuring. She waved her hand at the stretch of road. "There's a lot to put together here."

The Hispanic man, Eric, was next to shake her hand. "Welcome." He grinned in such a way that she couldn't be sure if he was checking her out or just being friendly. "You from around here?"

"No. I transferred from Cleveland."

"Ohio? Wow." He laughed. "I think you'll like the winter weather here a little bit better."

She nodded in agreement at that comment as the next two CSIs and the medical examiner came over to shake her hand. Ryan and Natalia were as friendly as the first two. Alexx seemed friendly as well, and though it was admittedly hard to tell for sure with her sunglasses on, she also seemed to pity her, and that made Riley even more uneasy.

As Alexx stepped back towards her kit, Riley looked to Horatio for instruction.

He looked around for a moment before nodding in Ryan's direction. "Why don't you assist Mr. Wolfe in marking and documenting any trace evidence on the street? He can show you where to get markers and a camera."

"Yes sir." Her reply was quick, and she set off just as quickly, grateful for something to do and a chance to move away from all the people trying not to stare at her. 'Being the new girl' was cliché, but it didn't make the situation any easier. She knew it wasn't intentional. People are curious by nature. But she just wanted to get to work and start fading into the background, where hopefully she could safely do her job without incurring the derision she'd faced before. Lieutenant Caine had convinced her to come back to the work. He had not, however, convinced her that the people aspect would be any different than before.

* * *

Horatio watched Riley leave with Ryan for one of the Hummers for another set of markers and an extra camera. Alexx stood with him, also watching, until the new CSI was far out of earshot.

Then she turned to the lieutenant. Without any pretense, she started in on him. "Horatio, I don't wanna question your judgment…"

He turned to face the ME, knowing what was coming.

"But what are you thinking, hirin' a girl that young?!"

"Alexx, she's been a CSI and a cop for almost three years."

"Well she doesn't look too happy about it."

He fiddled with his sunglasses. "From what I hear…she never looks happy."

"I wonder why." Alexx was somewhat sarcastic. "Horatio, that girl should be off in a dorm room somewhere, textin' her friends and avoiding homework. What on earth is she doing bein' a CSI? Or a cop, for that matter?"

"High IQ, early high school graduate, triple majored in college. She's driven, Alexx."

"I dunno about that…Does that look like someone who's chomping at the bit to come to work every day?"

"She…she's had a lot of…difficulties in the past." He looked up to lock eyes with Alexx. "She was referred to me by a friend. This is her second chance at…everything. I don't think we can afford to lose her, and I don't think she can afford to lose us."

The two of them could see Riley with Ryan off in the distance, one braid hanging down her back as she helped place evidence markers. She raised her camera after each thing she marked, and alternated collecting the evidence with Ryan. Alexx sighed, and finally turned back to Horatio and rested one hand on his forearm. "Look. I trust you Horatio, I really do. But to be perfectly honest, I am worried about this girl."

He nodded as she picked up her kit and made her way over to the body.

"So am I…" he told no one. "So am I…"

* * *

Author's note: I hope you liked the update. My apologies for the Riley-heaviness of this installment. I'm trying to really flesh out her character, and I thought it would be interesting to share different first impressions of her from each team member. I know it got a little dense there, and I do apologize. Also, I'm continuing to carefully tread the line between 'too-perfect' and 'believable smart, capable character with problems'. Please let me know if she's getting too much on the side of the first one. Also, I know the timing is a little rushed (moving to Miami & unpacking) but I had to take some artistic license there to move the story along. In the next few chapters I'll make sure to spend more time in different character's points of view, not just Riley and Horatio. Although, admittedly, things are still going to be Riley-centered for a while until she's been fully established into the team. I'm hoping to completely cover her first case in the next chapter so that I move the storyline along and reveal some of her mysterious and intriguing (I hope!) background. However, I've found that I usually manage to make a case take up, at the least, three chapters, so I guess we'll see how that goes! Reviews are always greatly appreciated!!


	6. Chapter 6

_Disclaimer: All original characters and such belong to CBS. I own the characters I created as well as the new plot._

**Summary: **Horatio Caine hires a new CSI for the Miami Dade Crime Lab's day shift, an out of place, burned out young woman from the rural north. The rest of the team is surprised and a little uncertain, but this girl may need them even more than they need her…

**Chronology: **Before season six's episode nineteen, "Rock and a Hard Place." This story actually pushes that episode back a few months. Things will make more sense once I get further into it.

**Pairings: **None right now.

**Rating: **T for situations and probably some mild cursing.

**Author's Note:** As you may have noticed, I've updated my pre-story info format. Change can be good. I hope this will be helpful both to my wonderful readers and myself.

Here it is, as promised! I swear, I'm going to figure out a way to update more frequently, maybe some kind of schedule…At any rate, I hope this chapter gives you a little more insight into some of the character's minds and maybe a little more insight into Riley's behavior. Any guesses as to what went down at her old jobs? Don't worry, I _will_ eventually explain that. I'm just curious as to how curious you are, haha. Hope you enjoy it!

* * *

**Considerations**

The new CSI had said next to nothing as Ryan showed her where in the Hummers they kept extra evidence markers and camera batteries. She said even less as the two of them began placing the markers next to pieces of rubber, glass, plastic, and litter.

Place a marker. Raise the camera. Click three pictures. Repeat. She was all business and utterly clinical. It was a bit disconcerting.

"Soooo…" he finally said, wanting to break up the strange silence.

Riley looked up from her work, still impassive.

"Uhh, what do you think of Miami?" Ryan asked, trying to sound friendly.

"Not bad," she replied quietly, and she bent back over her work.

_Weird…_ He raised his own camera and got a few shots of what could be a critical piece of evidence or just a random candy wrapper. "You used to work in Ohio?"

"Yeah."

"What made you decide to transfer here?"

"Circumstances changed."

More silence.

"So, uh, was that the only crime lab you worked at before you came here?"

"No."

"Where else did you work?"

"Pennsylvania."

"Pittsburgh? Philadelphia?"

"Westlake."

"Never heard of it."

"It's tiny."

Ryan could have understood a strange silence from an older CSI, someone who had seen too much hurt and death and injustice in life, but this girl was younger than he was, and he was still considered the baby of the team. She didn't seem overtly unfriendly, and it did not act as though she was trying to be mean. She was just very…distant. Not knowing what else to do, he let it go and they continued working in silence.

* * *

"Hey…" Eric murmured to Calleigh as they placed some pieces of bagged evidence in the back of a Hummer. "Does the new girl seem…a little…off to you?"

"Ya know, she does…kind of. I dunno what it is though…"

"Something about her just…have you ever seen someone her age who talks that little?"

"No, never…You know what else? I have not seen her smile. When you made that comment about Miami's weather versus Ohio's, I thought for sure she'd smile, even just a little polite one, ya know? And it sort of looked like she did, only when I think back, she just kinda nodded and raised her eyebrows and let her mouth be a little less tight, if that makes any sense…"

"I know exactly what you mean," Eric replied. "Weird, huh?"

"I'll say." The two of them paused in their work for a moment to glance back to where Riley and Ryan were still documenting bits of road debris. "I don't wanna sound mean," Calleigh quickly added. "She seems quite capable as a CSI, and she definitely seems mature. But something is just…I dunno."

"Do you think Horatio knew that about her before he hired her?"

"He must've. He interviewed her."

Eric nodded slowly. "I guess he knows what he's doing."

"Yeah…maybe she'll open up after a bit. After all, she's been here all of ten minutes, and moving from Ohio to Florida has to be a real shock to the system."

He laughed a little. "Agreed. And you're right—we should give her more than ten minutes before we start making judgment calls. I trust H on this one."

* * *

"Alexx…" Horatio verbally drew out her name as he slid off his sunglasses to get a better look at the body on the ground in front of them. "Do we know who our victim is?"

She held out a latex-gloved hand to him, in which she clutched a dark brown leather wallet. "According to the driver's license, his name's Michael Donner, age forty-five. The address is in Star Island."

The CSI glanced over the victim's clothing. "Designer shirt and pants, Italian shoes, silver watch…combined with the address, I'd say he's a man of substantial wealth. Do you have COD?"

Alexx rolled the victim from his stomach onto his back. "It'll take an autopsy before I can say for certain, but from the pedestrian fractures and skull fractures, plus this bruising pattern, I think it's highly unlikely he was killed by something other than being struck by a car."

"I don't suppose you can tell me the car's make."

She laughed. "Honey, I'm good, but not that good. I need to get him back to the lab before I can get ya that kinda info. Though I will say this: judging by the location of the leg fractures, I'd say it was a smaller vehicle, maybe a sports car of some kind. But don't quote me on that. Again, I need to get this poor guy back to the morgue and take some measurements before you go huntin' down every sports car in the city."

"Understood."

"You had a rough night of it, didn't you baby?" Alexx added in a sympathetic tone, now addressing the corpse.

* * *

With the entire shift at the crime scene at one time, they were able to sweep the street clean of all the evidence they could find in only a few hours and get out of the way before the traffic got heavy.

Back at the lab, Riley was elbow deep in diagrams, rulers, pencils, graph paper, stencils, and glossy eight-by-ten photos. Horatio and Frank had spoken to the owners of every business that had a security camera in the vicinity of the crime scene. Of the three cameras, one was fake, one was broken, and the other, due to a malfunction, recorded over its tape after six hours. Without video evidence, they didn't have a clear image of the crime. Horatio had asked her to create one. She was a little surprised, a little wary, and a little pleased that he hadn't asked her to go for coffee. For the moment, she could only work with the skid marks and placement of debris, as the coroner hadn't finished her autopsy yet. _Alexx,_ she reminded herself silently. _The coroner's name is Alexx._

It was nice to actually get her hands on some tools and put her time into helping find a solution. She wasn't even tired anymore. She measured, took notes, and sketched, slowly bringing sense and vision to a random act she'd never seen. Acceleration marks: fresh. Someone had meant to hit him. Trash: possibly irrelevant, possibly crucial. The candy wrappers could be general litter, but one of them might also have the murderer's DNA on it. Without more information from the body she couldn't get too far, but hopefully she had recreated the moments after the impact—a building here, a wrapper there—from multiple angles. It was best to have a physical idea of all factors before even attempting to feed the information into a computer rendering program, as a control of sorts. Even the best computers weren't infallible.

"Progress?"

She looked up to see Horatio standing in the doorway, holding a few dollars in one hand.

"Some," she admitted.

He came over to her worktable and began admiring the detailed sketches.

She pushed another piece of paper towards him. "A list of all surrounding businesses and their hours and phone numbers. An employee may have seen something and not thought about it."

He raised his eyebrows and nodded. "Thank you Riley. Nothing was open during our canvas, but perhaps maintenance was around…How did you...find time for the reconstructions and this?"

She turned away, still unused to much conversation. "Multitasking can be good for concentration."

"I appreciate it. We haven't yet had time to look this up—we located the victim's wife and brought her in."

A moment of heavy silence. "Has she been told?"

Before he could answer, a shrill scream splintered the previously quiet morning air, followed by heavy sobs. "I believe Calleigh just told her," he sighed.

Riley nodded in silent understanding.

Horatio stepped back towards the door. "The reconstructions look great. Thank you."

She nodded in reply, reaching for a pencil.

"Do you want anything?"

Startled, she looked up. "What?"

Her new boss held up the money. "I'm making a run to the vending machines. Hungry? Thirsty?"

"Um…" she faltered.

His cell phone rang and he picked up, holding one finger out to indicate he'd get back to her in a minute. "Caine. Yes. Really? When? All right…thank you Alexx." He turned back to her and added, "Alexx just finished the autopsy."

"I can pick up the results," she offered immediately, making a move to get up.

He waved her back. "Finish what you're doing. Natalia might go get it, depending on what she's working on."

"Are you—"

He held up the money again, a question apparent on his face.

"Uh, water…would be great?"

"Water it is." He headed out the door and left her sitting in surprised silence to ponder the idea that her boss was bringing _her_ something, and that she wasn't being sent on the first errand available.

* * *

Calleigh sat and tried to comfort Mr. Donner's widow. "I am so sorry for your loss."

The petite brunette rocked back and forth in her chair, tears streaming down her face. "No, not Michael! It _can't_ be! Please, there must be some mistake!"

"Ma'am…we found his ID in his wallet."

"It must be…planted!" She was near hysteria.

Sighing, the CSI slipped a small photograph out of a folder and held it out in front of Cynthia Donner, quietly inquiring, "Is this your husband?"

The woman froze and let the picture drift into her palm. In a few seconds, all the hysterical energy seemed to visually leave her body, replaced by a heavy, bone-deep sadness that pulled her into a hunched position. Face inches from the photo, she murmured, "Michael…" and brushed two fingers gently along the image of his jawline.

"How did…"

"He…was struck by a car."

Fresh tears started down her face and she closed her eyes in pain.

"I realize how incredibly difficult this must be," Calleigh continued, in a low, gentle voice. "But what can you tell me about your husband? Was he having any problems? Did he have any enemies?"

"Umm…" Cynthia sniffed hard and tried to rub some of the tears from her face. "He, uh…everyone loved him, pretty much…"

"Pretty much?"

"Most of the time," she admitted. "But lately…he…he had a really bad fight with his business partner. His best friend. They haven't been speaking, other than a few nasty messages on our answering machine."

"What's his name?"

She stared in shock. "No, no! He wouldn't have done something like this! I mean, sure they were fighting but—"

"Ma'am, we still need to talk to him."

Fresh tears crept from under her eyelids as she squeezed them shut and whispered, "Kevin Orayno."

* * *

"Hey," Natalia addressed Riley, who was quietly sipping water while hunched over some diagrams.

She glanced up. "Hey."

"I hear you do a pretty mean reconstruction," she smiled.

"Uh, I suppose…"

"I was just about to go get the autopsy report from Alexx. Wanna come along, see where the morgue is?"

Riley quickly glanced over her work, maybe looking for an excuse to say no. If so, she found none, or changed her mind, and replied, still with some uncertainty, "Sure."

They walked along the hallways towards the autopsy room, Natalia trying to make light conversation and Riley answering as quickly and succinctly as possible. The older CSI could see the way she was dodging anything remotely personal and completely avoiding eye contact. It was acutely obvious that she'd been on the receiving end of someone's less than kind behavior. She didn't know details, but she knew regardless of any specifics that Normally Natalia wouldn't share something so personal, but she knew firsthand what merely ignoring a problem could do a person. "Look, Riley," she said, lowering her voice as they passed an open conference room. "I know it's probably not my place and a little weird coming from someone you just met, but I feel like I need to offer anyway. I've been through something pretty bad, and I know what it's like to feel like you can't talk to anyone about it. But that won't make things any better. If you ever need to talk, I'm here."

Once again without eye contact, the younger CSI murmured something that might have been 'yeah' or 'ok' or maybe 'thanks', and then they reached the doors to the morgue.

Stepping inside, they were greeted by a rush of cool air and the scent of disinfectant. Alexx looked up from a tray where she was laying out instruments. "Hey girls. Here to see Mr. Donner?"

"You got it."

The medical examiner stepped away from the wall of brushed stainless steel doors indicated to them to meet her at the closer of two autopsy tables. A light white cotton sheet was draped over a prone figure. Alexx whisked it off to reveal the late Michael Donner.

"COD?"

"For once, no surprises." She indicated the fractures to his shins and the dark bruise on his forehead. "He was struck by a vehicle, which caused pedestrian fractures and several fractures to his skull when it made contact with the hood of the vehicle. The impact broke his spine and he died instantly." She reached for a stack of evidence bags and envelopes on a side table nearby. "There wasn't a whole lot, but I did manage to find a couple interesting things in the evidence department. There was a red paint chip caught in the wound on one of his legs and his shirt has a few discolored spots that I couldn't identify. Something for your guys in trace to play with."

"Great. Anything else?"

"The contents of his pockets, although I don't know much help they'll be. Didn't see anything that stuck out, but then again, that's what they pay _you_ for."

Natalia smiled. "Right you are, Alexx. I'll start going over this stuff, maybe pawn it off on Ryan when he gets done helping Eric re-canvas the area." She headed out of the doors and back towards the lab, Riley following until Alexx called her back.

"Just one second young lady."

Riley turned, confused.

"Well come here!"

She slowly did as she was told.

Alexx waited until Riley looked her in the eye. "This is for you," she said, handing her a folder. "It's all the photographs and measurements I could get from the breaks and the bruises that might help you narrow down what kinda car hit him."

"Thank you." Riley went to take the folder, but the medical examiner hung on for another few seconds.

"I don't know what's eating you, baby girl," Alexx said gently. "But I promise you that none of us bite." She released the folder.

The young CSI seemed not to know how to take her almost motherly tone and simply nodded yet again and headed back to the lab.

* * *

The computer facilities of the Miami Dade Crime Lab were utterly overwhelming. Westlake's lab had consisted of mostly outdated PCs with the occasional new piece of equipment when the county managed to win an endowment or two. Riley had done her best to avoid the setup and stick to her pencils and paper, but with the measurements and images from Dr. Woods, she was forced to feed the data into one of the automobile databases. Images of cars were zipping by too quickly to fully make out any particular one as the directory sorted through the numbers and other parameters she had fed it, becoming just a blur of chrome and color.

"What do we have?"

She started, not having heard Lieutenant Caine enter the room.

"Ah…according to the information Dr. Woods provided about the location of the tibia breaks, the car that struck the victim has a ground clearance of 5 and ¾ inches ground clearance. The unique shape of the bruising also helped narrow down a fender type. The computer is running the data now."

They stayed in silence for a while, her sitting, him standing.

Finally, he asked, "How are you?"

"Fine, thanks," was the quiet response.

Before he had time to think up another question in an attempt to get her to talk, the computer beeped excitedly and flashed a signal at them. "We have a match?"

"Yes…the vehicle is an '06 Corvette. Likely red, if the paint chip Dr. Woods recovered does turn out to be automobile paint."

"Excellent…" Horatio pulled out his cell phone and began dialing a number as he headed for the lobby. "Thank you Riley."

* * *

Eric and Ryan met their supervisor in the lobby. "Gentlemen…did you get anything?"

"No," Eric sighed. "This canvas was the same as the first. No one saw or heard anything and neither did any of the cameras. Or, if they did, it got erased."

"And we didn't find any more physical evidence," Ryan added.

"We may have something now…Ms. Davison was able to use the autopsy photos and data, along with the acceleration tire marks at the scene, to narrow down a type of car—an '06 Corvette. Likely red, but we're waiting on the lab results to confirm the makeup of the red paint chip Alexx found."

"Excellent," Eric commented, looking relieved.

He handed them each a printout of the exact model of the vehicle suspected in the homicide. "For now…let's operate under the presumption that the vehicle is indeed red. Expand your canvas to include adjoining streets and see if you can find any other cameras. Request the footage and bring it back to the lab to check for a vehicle of this type around the time of the murder."

Ryan looked a little less than thrilled to be heading back out for a third canvas, but he was relieved that they at least had a lead this time. "You got it, H."

Eric nodded and looked up from examining the printout. "Yeah, this should get us somewhere." He slapped Ryan on the shoulder. "Let's go."

* * *

Calleigh poked her head into the room where Natalia was running tests on the samples Alexx had collected from the autopsy. "Hey, you got a minute?"

"Kinda busy, actually…What's up?"

"I found Michael Donner's friend, the one he had the fight with."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, it was funny how I couldn't reach him for hours, but then I finally get through and tell him what's going on and he doesn't sound all that surprised. And then when I ask him to come in to answer some questions, he agrees…and shows up with his lawyer."

Natalia slowly put down the test tube she was holding. "He what?"

"That was my reaction. Do you think you can have someone else take over for you for a while? Horatio's running some background information and I want someone else there while I talk to him."

"Sure thing." She waved over one of the lab techs and quickly explained what process she was working on. She slipped out of her lab coat and asked, "What about Riley?"

"I don't wanna overwhelm her."

"Probably a good idea."

They walked at a brisk pace down the hall to one of the interview rooms where a large, buff middle-aged man with sandy blond hair sat with a thin, pale man dark-haired wearing an expensive charcoal suit and likely in his late sixties.

"Mr. Orayno," Calleigh greeted him somewhat flatly as she and Natalia took seats opposite the man and his lawyer. "You aren't being accused of anything. Why did you bring a lawyer?"

"My client is merely exercising his right to legal counsel," the pale, suited man replied in a cool tone. "Richard Merritt."

"My question was directed at your client, Mr. Merritt," Calleigh replied just as coolly. "And as he hasn't been arrested, I'm not sure why he'd think he needs legal counsel. We're just talking."

"About his late friend with whom he recently had a fight. Let's face it: you've got no evidence, so you're looking for the first convenient guy to pin it on."

"Actually, Mr. Merritt," Natalia responded smoothly. "We have plenty of evidence and we just need to figure out who it belongs to. Perhaps your client can help us out."

The man in question uncrossed his arms and rested them on the tabletop. "What do you want to know?"

"What was the fight about?"

He rolled his eyes and leaned back in chair. "Is that all?"

"Mr. Orayno."

"It was about money, what else? We started a flooring material distribution company together, things went well for a while, and then he made a couple of investments without consulting me and promptly lost all the money we had."

"So you were pissed off."

"Hell yeah I was pissed off!"

"Did you threaten him?"

"You don't have to answer that, Kevin," the lawyer cut in.

"That's right, Kevin, you don't." Calleigh set a tape recorder on the table. "We know you did."

"Hey, I didn't mean any of that seriously!"

"And yet he's dead."

"Not my fault!"

"Do you own a red 2006 Corvette, Mr. Orayno?"

"So what if I do?"

"It's just that that happens to be the exact type of car that hit Mr. Donner."

"A new red Corvette in Miami?" Richard Merritt laughed. "You can't possibly be serious. Do you know how many people have those?"

Calleigh leaned forward and rested her arms on the table. "A lot, including your client, as he has yet to deny it."

"Circumstantial. Look, this is a real tragedy, but unless you have video of a Corvette with a license plate registered to my client actually hitting Mr. Donner with Mr. Orayno in the passenger seat, you've got nothing. We're done here."

Calleigh and Natalia couldn't stop them, so they watched them leave.

"What do you think?" Calleigh asked when they were gone.

"Oh he definitely did it." Natalia didn't hesitate. "He's got killer written all over him. Who lawyers up before they even go in for a chat with the police working their best friends' murder?"

"In my experience, only the guilty."

* * *

Riley had taken over in the lab when the lab tech running samples for Natalia was finished with his shift. Everything had been or was in the process of being analyzed, except for the shirt.

She spread it out on a worktable and used a small, handheld rectangular magnifying glass to examine every inch of the garment. It was a light blue long-sleeved button up shirt, not expensive but also not cheaply made. It was speckled here and there with blood from the impact and it bore a small tear about halfway down with a dark stain around the edges that smelled of motor oil. The most curious thing about it, however, was the presence of those interesting stains Dr. Woods had noticed. They were light brown and each slightly larger than a nickel, and clearly some form of grease. After looking around to see if anyone was watching her, she chanced a quick sniff of the areas. Surprisingly, there wasn't the starchy smell of fast food she was half-expecting. Instead, it had an oddly clean yet earthy smell. She took some swabs and prepared samples to run through the mass spectrometer.

Riley was leaning against a counter in the lab, her arms crossed, waiting for the results to print out, when Horatio came in. She quickly straightened up, but he held up one hand to signal that she didn't need to.

"Ms. Davison," he greeted her.

"Lieutenant Caine," she replied, still with that half-nervous edge to her voice.

"What do we have on the paint chip?"

"Confirmed to be car paint of the type that Corvettes are painted with. Regal red is the manufacturer's name for the color."

"Excellent. What have you found on the victim's shirt?"

"There's a tear here," she indicated with a gloved finger.

"Ok…any theories?"

She looked at him for a while, somewhat startled and still slightly hesitant. "The, uh, stain around the edges looked like motor oil, so I tested it and the mass spectrometer confirmed it. It looks like after the killer ran over the victim his shirt caught on the undercarriage."

"Ok…Did we get results on the other stains on the vic's shirt?"

"Ah, one moment…" She turned to the printer as it began to hum and beep. Picking up the few sheets of paper, she shuffled through them. Turning to the computer nearby, she did a quick search on the components and shortly read out, "It's an organic protective treatment for leather."

"Protective treatment for leather…" he mused. "Sounds like the suspect wore gloves. This could be premeditated."

"But…" she started to say, then thought better of it. Contradicting a superior was definitely one skill she didn't have.

Horatio tilted his head and looked at her questioningly, letting her know once again that he was interested in what she had to say. _Riley, things are different here…_

Like a kid at school who hadn't wanted to get called on, she haltingly explained, "Well, if the killer was going to hit him with the car he probably wouldn't bring gloves…he couldn't have known that his shirt would get caught on the undercarriage…"

He nodded slowly, trying not smile. She might have come to Miami timid, but she could be trained out of it. "What do you think?"

Her face clearly showed that she wasn't used to being asked. Her eyes darted over the evidence, gathering ideas. "No one drives with freshly oiled gloves, especially in Miami…" she mused aloud. "There's no reason for him to have had them in his car…unless…" She looked back up at Horatio, eyes wide with sudden realization. "Unless it _was _premeditated, but running him over wasn't the plan. Something went wrong and he had to resort to his car as a weapon. We're missing a primary crime scene."

This time he did smile. "Well done, Ms. Davison. Now let's find it."

* * *

A few phone calls later, Lieutenant Caine knew that Kevin Orayno did indeed own a regal red 2006 Corvette and that Eric had managed to find footage of one from a security camera outside a bank a few streets over, approximately half an hour before the murder. He hauled Mr. Orayno and Mr. Merritt in for another little talk, but the slick lawyer legitimately pointed out that the evidence was circumstantial at best. One more phone call to a judge, however, secured a warrant for them to search the vehicle in question.

He and Ryan Wolfe made quick work of the interior as it was the stereotypical clean, new car of the wealthy. The outside was just as clean, and unfortunately they didn't find any fibers from Mr. Donner's shirt on the undercarriage. However, Mr. Wolfe did find an expensive pair of black leather gloves under the driver's seat, still slightly greasy from what they both suspected was an organic protective leather treatment. Horatio took them to the lab where he'd ask Riley to meet him.

She gingerly took the gloves and ran swabs along the fingers and fingertips, clipped the ends of the swabs into small plastic tubes half-filled with distilled water, and inserted them into the mass spectrometer. They both fidgeted a little as they waited for the results, but it paid off: the substance was the same as the leather treatment from the victim's shirt.

Of course, it was still circumstantial.

But the phone call he received from Eric a few minutes later turned the case around in their favor. He had found out where the victim and suspect had had their main office—and in the process, discovered the primary crime scene. The phone call he received from Riley immediately afterwards further solidified the evidence.

It was time to speak to the former best friend and his shadow lawyer once more.

* * *

Horatio was standing outside the interrogation room when Riley approached him, uncertainty creasing her forehead.

"Lieutenant?"

"Ms. Davison. I'd like to have you in on this interview."

"Sir…I've, ah, never…interrogated anyone before."

"That's not a problem. Just sit and observe, but feel free to add to anything I say. You were a substantial help in gathering and processing this evidence." He indicated with a nod of his head towards the nearest room, and she followed him inside, hanging back a few steps.

"Mr. Oryano. Mr. Merritt."

The lawyer responded first again. "Lieutenant Caine, this is getting ridiculous. In fact, it's starting to border on harassment."

"That's very interesting, considering your client is a murderer."

He snorted, and suddenly seemed to notice the thin woman with black braids sitting next to where the redheaded officer was standing. "Who's this?"

"CSI Davison. She assisted in the investigation."

"I hope she helped you prove my client's innocence." He had an arrogant smile on his face.

"On the contrary." Horatio gave a little smirk of his own and opened the folder in front of him. "We found your office," he directed at Kevin Orayno.

The nonchalance slid from the man's face.

"Registering the space in your mother's name did make it a little difficult, but we found it. Along with the gun and bullet strikes in the wall."

Riley watched and listened carefully as Horatio relayed the details of the crime they'd slowly and deliberately reconstructed to the killer: how Michael owed him an obscene amount of money, how angry he was, especially when the man kept wearing his luxurious clothes and watches and continually promising to pay him back and continually reneging on those promises, how he thought he could blackmail Cynthia into giving him the insurance money if Michael was dead, how he lured the man to the office with him in the same car late that night with the fake promise of a sudden influx of money from a big flooring job, how he'd worn gloves to keep any evidence off his hands and carefully oiled them beforehand to make sure they were flexible, how Michael had somehow sensed trouble and begun to flee even before the bullets started flying, how he missed several times and was so angry he'd forgotten the gun, how since Michael didn't have his car there he'd run to the street to attempt to flag someone down, how Kevin had surmised as much and gotten his car and used it as a weapon to murder the man who had been his best friend for fifteen years.

The lawyer and killer were silent.

"And after you'd run him over…" Horatio continued in a low, almost deadly tone. "You realized his body was caught on the bottom of your car. You stopped, you got out of the car, and you yanked his shirt free. Then you drove away. Unfortunately for you, you left your gloves in your car for us to find." He pulled a picture from the folder and slid it over the glass tabletop in front of them. The picture showed a glove lying alongside a white ruler for size comparison. Part of one of the glove's fingers was circled in red. "That, gentlemen, is a bloody blue fiber from Michael Donner's shirt. The DNA belongs to him which means…" He forced Kevin Orayno into eye contact. "You killed him, pulled his shirt from the undercarriage of your vehicle, and left his body in the street."

* * *

It hadn't taken much more to get Kevin to confess. The team finished the paperwork and handed the closed case over to the prosecutor's office, gathering in the break room to celebrate closing a case in one day for once. The mood was as cheerful as it could be in light of the crime they had just solved, but no one could convince Riley to stay. She politely declined an invitation for group drinks at a local bar and excused herself to head home.

She entered her new little house and made her way to her bedroom where she reclined on her mattress, tired but feeling accomplished. She mulled over the recent events, the people, the lab. She compared, she contrasted.

Finally, Riley decided that in spite of her earlier reservations, as well as current ones, all in all, it had actually been a good day.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Well, unfortunately that didn't turn out as well as I thought it would. I hope I haven't completely bored you all to tears. I think the next chapter will be something far more exciting and revealing that I thought I was going to save for much further on. Let's face it: mysterious, odd characters are interesting, unless you have _nothing_ on them. And I realize I've pretty much revealed zero about Riley. I'm not going to tell you everything next time, but there will be enough tidbits and change for her to hopefully open up a little bit with the other characters, as well as to develop her more and tell you something other than she has issues, haha. Also, I apologize if I contradicted myself in places or made mistakes with the evidence. Much of this was written late at night and I sort of got burned out towards the middle. Hope you didn't find this completely terrible!


End file.
